


Crossed Confession

by VoxTenebrarum



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Drug Use, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoxTenebrarum/pseuds/VoxTenebrarum
Summary: Eleven and the crew are enjoying themselves at Lonalulu's party. Erik and Eleven have a private chat. Fluffy stuff.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Crossed Confession

The party was in full swing by 9 at night, some people already pretty blitzed while others were just starting. As Eleven strode through the little gathering of villagers and his own teammates, he chuckled to himself. These guys really knew how to have a good time. Maybe it was something about little towns and villages, he mused silently, they always seemed to be the most eager to celebrate anything with a few too many drinks. Cobblestone had been the same, every birth, death, and special event was accompanied by an excessive amount of inebriation; the baby showers were liberally peppered with mead, the wakes drowned in rye whiskey, and every single holiday there was moonshine readily available from dawn to dusk. 

Suffice to say, Eleven’s tolerance was nothing to laugh at. He’d been a drinker since he was 8, practically an alcoholic at the age of 15, and only recently in his 21st year of life had he managed to control his intake of the stuff; limiting it to special occasions and the odd night with his friends.

Tonight happened to be one such special occasion, and accordingly, he had a mug of rum held tightly in his fist. He took another swig of the foreign alcohol, shivering at the sensation of it running down his throat but delighting at the pleasant and familiar fire in his stomach. He liked rum, he decided. It had a pleasant taste, it was strong, and was apparently abundant; the three things that Eleven looked for in a drink. 

That old sensation of his vision softening at the edges and his inhibitions loosening flooded him, like the tide slowly creeping up its banks, his buzz was climbing from the pits of his stomach to the inside of his skull. Another big gulp of rum had him smiling warmly, he couldn’t help it, there was warmth permeating him from every side; the gentle breeze of the evening against hot Lonalulu air, his stomach filled with friendly warming liquid. This was truly an oasis in the desert of their journey.

Although he appreciated the company and support of his team, although the battles were rewarding, and although there was excitement at every turn; sometimes all Eleven wanted was that comforting sensation of being a little bit tipsy with Gemma as they watched the night stars. Nothing thrilling, no expectations. Just the simple pleasure of slow conversation with a good friend. Even at this moment, surrounded by people that hailed him as a hero and good booze, it just wasn’t quite right. There was no intimacy, just mindless celebration.

His mood soured somewhat, he swung the mug back and finished it in a single movement, reeling for a brief second at the sudden intake of rum. Better to just try and enjoy it, he thought, it’s not like there was anyone like Gemma with him right now anyway. But the more that he thought about it, the more he realized that it wasn’t really that it was Gemma herself that made those nights so magical - much as he did enjoy her company - it was more the sense of closeness that he had to her in those moments that really kept pulling his mind back to them. He wanted to feel like he was in a universe where only two people existed, even if it was just for a few minutes. But how could he possibly-

Erik.

The thought flashed in his mind, neon in its urgency. He balked a little, noticeably enough that one of the locals gave him a look, before pulling himself together. It wasn’t that this was the first time that the intrusive thought of Erik had invaded his mind, stirring up emotions that he hadn’t felt since his teenage crush on Gemma. He recognized the sweaty palms, the simultaneous desire to be close to and far away from him, the weak pain in his chest when they locked eyes. He definitely had a crush on the little thief. If not more. But he wasn’t ready to do anything about it, not yet, maybe never.

No matter what Serena hinted at or Veronica straight up declared, Eleven was pretty sure Erik was just a little flirty. Sure, his friend had a tendency to touch him and stare him in the eye and talk about him like he was a gift to the world, but that didn’t mean that he felt anything. Besides, even if he did, Eleven didn’t like pushing people to admit how they felt, he preferred to let them come to those conclusions in their own time. He was just happy to have the blue-haired trickster by his side, in whatever capacity that happened to be, and he certainly wasn’t about to squander his moments with the boy by declaring anything. Especially when he wasn’t quite sure if it was reciprocated.

Yes. Better to be wise and cautious. That’s what his logical side said, the one that he let rule him on almost every occasion. But the malnourished instinctual side of his being was not so easily controlled. Even now, as he worked to reign his thoughts into something reasonable, there was a tiny part of him absolutely hollering at the rest to just give up and kiss Erik already.

Eleven downed another mug of rum, letting the sensation of free-falling comfort him for a moment. But then all too suddenly, that annoying thought “Erik” was back, in the forefront of his mind, demanding attention. He heaved a sigh, how frustrating. At this rate, he wasn’t even going to have fun getting drunk, he’d just use it to escape the niggling little thoughts and sensations bombarding him. Then again, it did seem that the alcohol was partially to blame for his inability to stop that train of thinking altogether, his artificially poor self control getting the best of him this time. Still, that did nothing to stop him from shuffling over to the bar for a refill.

_______

It was midnight. The lanterns were lit up bright and the party was still moving. Many of the locals had long since passed out; either in their beds or - if they weren’t so lucky - off to the side of the tiki bar. As Eleven surveyed the area, he noticed that Veronica wasn’t looking so hot, her eyes were glazed over with intoxication and she was struggling to stand. It had surprised her that she’d been allowed to drink, given her appearance, but Eleven didn’t bat an eye at the idea, remembering his first drink at the tender age of 7. Presumably, her young body wasn’t putting up with the poison very well: she looked positively sick. Better get her to bed, he thought absently. 

Serena had started the night out gingerly sipping something that the villagers called a pina colada, which apparently consisted of so much juice that Serena didn’t notice the rum at all. Until it was too late of course. She was on her fifth pina colada now and was apparently having a blast. Her long skirt had been hiked up and tied to make it much shorter (for flexibility she said) but Eleven had a strong belief that it was mostly so that Jade would keep blushing every time she looked her way. The usually subdued cleric was dancing to the offbeat rhythms of the local musicians in attendance - all of which were far too drunk to keep a steady beat anymore - on the counter of the upper bar without even a shred of embarrassment. 

Jade sat sullenly in the corner, trying to keep her eyes off of Serena, and failing miserably. Her mug of rum, unlike Eleven’s own, remained practically untouched; little ripples coursing through it as her fingers drummed the tabletop. Eleven smiled at her, but she didn’t notice, too engrossed in her own thoughts to even recognize him. A sombre frustrated air billowed off her hunched form, speaking volumes of the thoughts that were plaguing her, and the interspersed agonizing looks she kept sending towards Serena told the rest. Inwardly, Eleven laughed at her predicament. If she would only tell Serena how she felt then things could be resolved one way or another, rather than silently staring her down from across the room every time she got the chance. 

But the moment that thought crossed his mind, he felt more than thought of his own hypocrisy. He had no place to judge Jade’s doe eyes. She didn’t even know he was looking at her, why should she cover up her feelings towards the cleric. He shook his head, trying to clear out the mean thoughts and his mild superiority complex, and smiled to himself: if only the others knew how much of a dick he really was.

Before his mind had time to focus on that particular thought for too long, an arm was suddenly wrapping around his shoulder in a loose embrace. He stiffened for a second at the unforeseen contact, before realizing that the limb belonged to Sylvando and that consequently there was nothing to worry about. Except for the vast amount of margarita that had suddenly come pouring down his shirt.

“Darling! I was looking eeeverywhere for you!” The tall man grinned, his happy-go-lucky face reddened by the alcohol. Sylvando didn’t seem to notice that his glass was spilling its contents onto Eleven’s chest, so he gently righted it as the entertainer spoke, “Are you having a good time? Ohh I hope so, honey! Because I’m absolutely loving this!!” As if to emphasize his point, he downed the remainder of the margarita in his hand, “These Lonalulu folks really know how to enjoy themselves.”

Eleven grinned back at him. Ruined shirt be damned, he thought, Sylvando was right. He was letting himself get too caught up in his negativity again and wasn’t enjoying this party in their honour. That was hardly fair. All these people were offering them free food and drink, and his response was to skulk around getting caught between fantasies that would never happen and mentally insulting his friends. No more, “Of course! Although I wish that Jade was enjoying herself a little more.” His voice was rough from drinking but it carried nonetheless.

Sylvando’s gaze slowly travelled to Jade’s melancholy figure. He watched for only a few seconds before laughing aloud, his hearty chortle shaking a little sobriety back into Eleven’s foggy head. Thank Yggdrasil Jade wasn’t paying attention to them, he thought.

“She’s just a little love sick, dear, no big thing!” His dark eyes turned to stare Eleven down as he continued, “Once they work it out, she’ll be happy as a clam.” There was something being hinted at there that, in his compromised state, Eleven had no way of working out. 

“I know that, and you know that, but do either of them know?” He asked, always surprised at the perception that Sylvando hid under his flamboyant exterior.

At this, the entertainer hummed low in his throat, thinking it over, before responding cheerily, “If they need the help, I’m always happy to play cupid for a little bit. But right now I think we just need to let them figure it out.” He punctuated his last line with a wink.

Backtracking quickly, Eleven scrambled to explain himself, “No, no. I- I didn’t mean that we should interfere. I... I just meant that maybe someone should tell Jade... that.... I don’t know.” he ended lamely, his face clouded with frustration.

Sylvando only smiled wider, the torch fire glinting wickedly off his teeth, “Speaking of... Have you seen Erik? I’ve been looking all over for our little troublemaker but I haven’t seen him in hours.”

At the mention of his favourite name, Eleven’s ears practically perked up, but he schooled his expression down to only mild interest, “I haven’t seen him either. Maybe he went to bed.”

The expression he received was nothing short of pity, “What a shame...” But even as the words left Sylvando’s lips, they twisted into a smug expression, “Oh wait! Who do I spy coming around the bar! Honey, look!”

Without waiting for Eleven’s reaction, Sylvando turned them both to the side, giving him the opportunity to see Erik unsteadily swaggering up to the bar. His colourful hair was a mess, a bird's nest of vibrant blue framing his face, and his cheeks were ever so slightly pink. He was saying something to the bartender but Eleven couldn’t understand what it was, partially because of all the noise, but perhaps more so because he was too invested in watching Eriks redder than normal lips shaping the words.

Beside him, Sylvando’s eyes narrowed into knowing slits. He released the shorter man suddenly, and gave him a little push forward, winking at him for good measure, “You should go check on him, darling. He’s looking a little worse for wear.” 

Eleven stumbled a bit as he was pushed, but regained his footing almost instantly. Casting a look of irritation back at his friend, he accepted this fate and continued onward. The jester was goading him on no doubt, having presumably caught him staring too long and too intently at the thief throughout their journey. He knew. Just like Eleven knew Jade’s secret. He shook his head again, trying to clear the frustration from his mind. Sylvando was just trying to help: playing cupid as he called it. Besides, why pass up an opportunity to see Erik in a compromised state.

As he made his way through the spattering of drunken villagers, he got close enough to hear what Erik was saying to the bartender.

“-An’ another thing! You’ve gotta gimme the recipe for that- that drink you made. Yunno, the one with the- uhhh... with the... pineapple? I think.... imma need a lot more of those! Like.. a lot more..” His usual brashness only seemed encouraged by intoxication, the slur of words had an edge of demand to them, as if Erik thought he was robbing this poor bartender at the point of his dagger.

Before the man could respond, Eleven was upon them. He seized Erik by the shoulder and pulled him easily away from the counter, before making solid eye contact with the uncomfortable bartender, “Sorry about my friend. He’s had a bit too much.” Was his excuse before pulling Erik away.

As they walked, Erik complained bitterly about being told what to do and that his arm hurt and that now he would never know how to make “penis koalas”, but Eleven noted that there was no attempt to free himself (even though they both knew he could if he wanted to). They made their way through the small bar area, earning a brief look from Jade, before stepping out into the clean night air. It was only then, away from the smell of spilled rum and activity that buzzed under the bar canopy, that Eleven detected a distinct scent wafting off Erik’s person. 

“Is that...?” He started but didn’t finish his sentence, not sure if he was right.

But before he could fully ask his question, Erik burst in, crowing proudly, “Hell yeah! I found some dudes hanging out by the docks smoking an’ they let me have a puff.” He grinned foolishly, eyes glistening, “It’s pretty goooood stuff too.. tasted like- uh... really smokey celery” His eyes narrowed seriously, as if what he said had any meaning, “So I took more than a few puffs, lemme tell you.” On that triumphant note, he swung around as if to head back to the bar. 

Before he could get anywhere, Eleven caught him by the arm and pulled him back, “Are you sure you need any more? You’re looking kind of... wasted already.” 

Cyan eyes looked up at him like still pools of water, reflecting the moonlight and Eleven’s own (slightly ruffled) appearance back at himself. The voice that followed was nothing like its benign counterparts, “What ‘r you sayin’? I’m perfectly.... perfectly alright. Just enjoying myself. What? That a crime now, Mister McPerfect?”  
Eleven chuckled a little bit, amused with Erik’s indignation, “No. You can enjoy yourself. Just maybe take a breather? Come on. Sit with me for a bit, I need a break from all the noise in there.” As he spoke, he gently led them both to a little cliff face, just far enough away to allow privacy without completely cutting them off from the party.

Erik was like liquid in his hands, letting himself be easily swept away despite all his superficial complaints about his own autonomy and so on. They blearily picked their way through the tall coastal grass before coming to the cliff edge and taking a seat, legs swinging beneath them as they sat on the very tip of the cliff. Perhaps it was not the safest place for two drunk people to relax, but neither of them noticed the possible danger, both too engrossed in the complex problem of how to arrange their legs so as to not bump the other inadvertently. 

When they were finally situated, Erik turned to him, eyes sparkling with intoxication and mischief, “It’s real pretty, huh? I never been somewhere tropical. Cool how bein’ in the ocean doesn’t get ya sick around here.”

For a moment, the drunk emotional part of Eleven’s mind supplied endless images of him grabbing Erik’s flushed face in his hands and finally kissing him, but as usual, the rational side of him won out. So instead, he simply responded with a smile, “It’s gorgeous. I wish we could stay here longer but we’ll have to get moving in the morning.” He winced at the thought of dragging his hungover group out of bed and getting them on the road. No doubt it would be a huge struggle.

Apparently the same thoughts were crossing Erik’s mind, as he made a pained expression at Eleven’s words. But after a second the weed had washed that negativity away, and he was grinning again, “Better enjoy it while we can! Glad we got the chance to get a lil crazy, yunno?”

Without really meaning to, Eleven found himself grinning just as foolishly back at Erik, his mouth stretched wide with glee and booze. Even if he never got to touch Erik how he wanted to, or tell him the intimate things that crossed his mind, it was enough to get these brief moments. Where it was just the two of them enjoying little pleasures and each other’s company. 

“You know what? You’re right. Even if I regret it in the morning, I’m going to have a good time tonight. I’m gonna go grab another drink. Do you want anything?” Eleven announced, standing up and managing to only tilt a little too far to the left as he did. 

Erik looked up at him, indignity sketched across his face, “WHAT?! You drag me all the way out here cause I’m bein’ too much or somethin’.” His hands mimed quotations as he spoke, “An’ then you go an’ get more booze?? For me?? You’re a weird one.” The smaller man laughed, not in his sarcastic bitter way, but with genuine enjoyment, “Fine. Whatever. Penis Koala for me, thanks.” 

Without bothering to explain himself, Eleven ruffled Erik's hair fondly before turning abruptly around towards the bar. Even though he was facing away from him, Eleven could practically see the blush crawling up the thief’s neck, the way that it always did when he touched him. There was something there, a hopeful voice said, something worth investigating. Not wanting to waste time with Erik, he strode off purposefully. 

As he was still mostly in his right mind, Eleven easily procured another mug of rum and a pina colada from the very tired looking bartender, giving him a generous tip before making his way back to the cliffside. The party seemed to be winding down a bit, many of the villagers making their way slowly back to their houses, while his group members were either in a state of utter inebriation, twirling around the little bar area, or straight up passed out in the bushes. Eleven shook his head, watching Sylvando lead Veronica haphazardly across the lawn towards their tent.

He made his way back to the cliffside, stumbling only once and managing not to spill either drink in his hands. Erik was staring out over the ocean and swaying slightly, as if the breeze rolling through the village was almost enough to knock him over. He didn’t hear Eleven approach, until the Luminary was right beside him, awkwardly taking a seat again. Eleven handed him his pina colada wordlessly, the drink sloshing dangerously close to the rim as he did so, before taking a deep sip of his own rum. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the warm night air and the soothing rhythm of the ocean. Eleven was just about to say something, start up a meaningless conversation, when Erik turned unexpectedly, eyes intense and hands balled up into fists, “I... Do you think...” his words trailed off, the embarrassment plain on his face, “I mean... uh... Can I...?” 

Eleven did nothing to assist him, although there was something in the back of his head that told him he knew what Erik was trying to say. Instead he just looked equally intensely back into Erik’s eyes, trying to silently encourage him to keep going. If this was what Eleven thought it was, then it was something that he desperately wanted to hear. But it had to be all Erik. No coddling or suggestions, just his own unfiltered thoughts.

“It’s just that... ugh... I’m no good at this shit.” Erik’s eyes darted away, staring fixedly on some grass fluttering in the wind. His hands flexed unconsciously, the knuckles white with tension, and his breathing was unsteady.

For a long moment, Eleven let him look away, giving him the chance to try again himself. But after a few minutes, he couldn’t handle the silence anymore, so he put a hand very gently on Erik’s cheek and pushed him back to face his eyes. At the touch, Erik jumped a little bit, and the telltale blush sprang to his cheeks, as if this was the first time that Eleven had ever laid a hand on him. But, regathering himself, he partially relaxed against the firm pressure on his face and took a huge breath.

“Eleven. I.... ugh... I really... um...” He instinctively tried to look away again, but Eleven softly kept his head in place, “You’re real... hot?” The blush dusting his cheeks deepened at the word, “An’ I really... wanna.. be.. with you?” 

As soon as he finished his statement, Erik tried to stand up, tried to run away from the problem he had just caused, but in his intoxication he ended up falling back into the grass, landing firmly on his ass. Before he could try to flee again, Eleven surged forward and grabbed him by the hips, keeping him in place. Their mouths were only inches from each other now, and Eleven could feel Erik’s hot breath ghosting over his lips in uncertain puffs, each breath out accompanied by a shaky one in. Bright turquoise eyes stared dumbfounded into his own, hazy and inebriated, but focused on him nonetheless.

Eleven couldn’t keep a self-satisfied smirk from growing on his lips as he took in the vulnerability and sheepishness gracing Erik’s permanently confident visage. Yes, he thought, fucking finally. After all these months of traveling together and trying to keep himself from looking too deeply into it, from hoping for too much; he was finally getting what he always wanted.

“Then you’re in luck.” His voice was low and more honeyed than he had anticipated, “Because I feel the same way.”

Erik opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word in, Eleven closed the distance between their lips. He had meant for the kiss to be chaste, not wanting to scare the thief away with his enthusiasm, but in his compromised state he couldn’t control the desperation that seeped into it. Without waiting for an invite, Eleven drove his tongue into Erik’s mouth, tasting him like he’d wanted to for so long, lapping at his lips and tongue as if it was water in the desert. 

For a moment, Erik didn’t respond to him, presumably shocked. But seconds later he was mirroring the frantic, sloppy movements of his partner; trying to get every sensation possible out of a simple kiss. Until, at last, they broke apart, breathing heavily, lips slick with saliva. Erik stared with absolute confusion at him, eyes wide, mouth still parted. Eleven made a mental note to surprise him more often, the expression suited him.

“You- you mean that?...” The voice that issued from Erik was uncharacteristically soft.

Without missing a beat, Eleven chuckled, “Yeah. I sure do.” Before diving into another kiss and reveling in his newfound freedom to do so.


End file.
